


Man In Black: The Smutbiscuit

by Anise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, F/M, Mind Games, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anise/pseuds/Anise
Summary: Draco plays some rather nasty games with Ginny, but she emerges the winner.





	Man In Black: The Smutbiscuit

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, so if anyone actually WANTS this to make sense or have a context... ;) It’s a smutbiscuit from a fic that never actually got posted. But if you’ve read any of my other fics, it was from Man In Black, a sequel to The Bat-Bogeys Cometh and Heavenly Creatures. MiB actually ended up being Death Train (which is on FIA, and who knows, it might end up here someday.) In the meantime, this scene is from about halfway through MiB. Draco and Ginny are on Voldemort’s train, and Ron is supposedly hiding out wherever it’s going next. Ginny got Draco to promise to spare Ron’s life once the Death Eaters catch him, and I’m sure you all can guess what Draco got in return. In Death Train, Ginny betrays Draco the next morning, but in the original storyline, they keep playing mind games with each other for awhile. This scene takes place the day after Ginny and Draco first seal their bargain. It’s very smutty, and Draco has major potty mouth. Also, he’s darker than Death Train’s Draco, more like what that Draco would have become if Snape hadn’t been able to protect him from doing certain things and getting in too deep.  
> +++

+++  
  
Malfoy raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw that she was wearing the voluminous black robes, but made no other comment. He pulled out her chair for her at the little round table. Smoking plates were already set out for them, and her glass was filled to the brim with a sparkling white wine. She sipped at it through a tightness in her throat; it was delicious, and God knew she needed all the courage she could get. Ginny forced herself to eat the fish in a delicate white sauce, and to fork up the salad with its citrus vinaigrette, chewing it mechanically. She'd need her strength, as well, for what lay ahead.  
  
The two of them spoke little throughout supper, and Ginny kept toying with her wineglass for a long time after the plates had been cleared away. The candles had begun to burn low, casting sinister shadows across the table and onto the bed that loomed behind them. At last, she felt a touch on her shoulder, and looked up to see Draco standing over her.  
  
"Stand up," he said.  
  
She did.  
  
"Remove your robe."  
  
Her nerveless fingers went up to its neck, and she slipped it off her shoulders, button by fumbling button. Ginny didn't quite dare to look directly into Malfoy's face then, but she could see his scowl from the corner of her eye when her old pink dress was revealed. The one she'd been wearing when he found her. It was her one rebellion against him; rather small and pitiful, it was true, but the only one she could afford at the moment.  
  
"Great Merlin. I don't believe it." He walked around her, flicking at its material contemptuously. "The house-elves didn't burn this hideous garment, I see."  
  
"No," she said.  
  
"I should have told them to."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"And so you chose to wear it. Rather than any of the things I had sent to you."  
  
"Obviously I did, Malfoy." Ginny thought of the filmy lacy cobwebby robes hanging in the wardrobe of her room. Each one looked as if a good breath would disintegrate it.  
  
A hint of a smile flickered at his lips. It wasn't a nice smile. "Now that it's clean, it looks more like a circus tent than ever."  
  
"Well, I like it. And it's mine. So I'll wear it if I choose," Ginny said defiantly.  
  
"If you choose," he repeated softly. "Yes... I think the chief difficulty here is that I've given you too many choices, Ginny."  
  
A shiver went through her at those words. Perhaps she had gone too far.  
  
"Take off that ridiculous thing," he said.  
  
Her fingers seemed to be frozen. She couldn't get the buttons through their buttonholes.  
  
"You don't seem to be moving very fast," he said, and his voice held a hint of menace.  
  
"I'm trying!" snapped Ginny. Tears trembled on the edges of her lashes as he watched her. A button popped off and fell clattering to the floor. There were still an outrageous number left and they seemed to be multiplying as she tried to undo them. After a few minutes of fumbling, she gave up. Her hands fell to her sides and she looked down at the floor, breathing hard, using all her energy in trying not to cry.  
  
"Never mind. Just lie down on the bed," Malfoy said.  
  
She walked over to it, her footsteps dragging involuntarily. Stiffly, she lay down, staring at the ceiling all the while. She expected to hear the bedsprings creak and feel his weight next to her any moment, but the moments dragged on, so she turned her head to look at him. Malfoy was still standing over her, his expression inscrutable in the dim light.  
  
"If you're just going to keep me lying here, why don't you give me a book to read or something?" she asked.  
  
Now there was definitely a smile on his lips. "I like your spirit," Malfoy said. "It amuses me. Always has done, you know. But I do think..." He drew his wand from a holster at his belt and tapped it against his cheek, thoughtfully. "I really do think I've given you too many choices altogether, so far. I rather think I'd like to see what happens when you aren't offered so very many."  
  
He bent over her, murmuring a charm she couldn't quite hear, and she flinched when she felt the tip of the wand at her wrists, and then at her ankles. Her arms were pulled gently over her head and her feet slightly down and apart, and she suddenly felt something around them, something like soft, broad bands. When she tried to yank her hands down, they would not move.  
  
"Malfoy," she said in an uneven, scared voice. God, how she hated the sound of her own voice when it had that tone to it! "What have you done to me?"  
  
His teeth flashed white against his thin pink lips. Yes, it was an honest-to-God grin, not a smirk, one of the few she'd ever seen on his face. "Come now, Ginny. You're a clever girl. Surely you can figure that one out."  
  
"You've bound me to the bed," she whispered.  
  
"Got it in one," he said, smiling. The tip of the wand descended again, running along the skirt of the dress. It felt hot. The material fell back from her body in ribbons, curling and hissing like snakes. Ginny gave a little moan of fear. She couldn't help it.  
  
"Shh," Malfoy said, wielding the wand as delicately as a surgeon's blade around her neck and wrists. The tip touched her thighs, and her old mended white knickers fell away. It moved along her chest, and her old white brassiere was gone. The cooler air of the room played along her skin. He reached down and gathered up the scraps of pink and white fabric around her that had once been her last bits of clothing from the old days, the Hogwarts days, before the world went mad. And, with a casual toss of his hand, he threw them in the little fireplace. They ignited with a whoosh, and the flames flared up briefly. The world swam before Ginny's eyes. But she would not, would not cry.  
  
Logic. She had to use logic. Perhaps that could get her through this. Ginny considered her situation. She was bound to the bed. She couldn't move hand or foot. And Malfoy had cut all her clothes off her and then thrown the rags into the fireplace, where they promptly burned to ash. It didn't look good. But things were getting worse. He'd laid his wand on the bedside table. Now, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and slowly trailing his long fingers over her naked body from head to foot, lingering at her throat, where the pulse beat an unsteady tattoo in the hollow above her collarbone, at her breasts, where the nipples hardened painfully under his touch, and at the curve of her waist, where she tried unsuccessfully to shrink away from him.  
  
She tried and tried to think. She didn't understand why he was doing this. He'd already taken her virginity as her part in the bargain they'd made, and she'd promised to come to his bed as often as he wanted over the next two weeks... so why yank her arms over her head and fix an ankle to each bedpost and then magically bind her there? Unless-- and the breath froze in her throat at the thought-- unless he wanted some sort of submission from her that she hadn't yet given him. Something that she wouldn't, couldn't give, perhaps. Maybe she didn't even know, herself, the precise nature of it. So how could she ever offer him what he really wanted from her, even if she was willing to do so?  
  
But there was no more room for thought, because now his head was bent over her chest and his mouth closed over one of her nipples and sucked, slowly, lingeringly. His tongue laved her with careful strokes and his teeth scraped her almost to the edge of pain, but then the gentle suction was back, soothing where he had bitten.  
  
"Do you like that, Ginny?" Malfoy asked her.  
  
Oh, that was cruel. Ginny stared at the ceiling more intently than ever.  
  
His hands were circling her hips now, teasing at the delicate skin of her inner thighs, brushing the fleece of sunset-colored hair just slightly. She made a little noise, low in her throat.  
  
"Do you want something?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head, violently.  
  
"Mm. I think you do. Why don't we see..." and the fingers began moving inward "... which one of us is right?"  
  
But in some corner of her mind, she already knew that Malfoy was right. She did want him, did crave all these unimaginable things he did to her, and that was the most shameful truth of all. Losing her virginity had opened a Pandora's box of curiousity inside her body, and only he could release what lay within.  
  
Without warning, one of his fingers slid all the way into her, and the sensation was shocking. Unexpected? No, she couldn't honestly say it was unexpected. She tried to tense against him. She really did. But ah, her body remembered the sensation, and welcomed it even if her mind didn't. Her body insisted that it wanted those wonderful long knobbly fingers with the big knuckles, and then there was another joining the first, yes oh yes, and the voice of the body drowned out the feeble little protests of the mind. There was a dull brief ache as the second finger penetrated her, but it wasn't pain, no, it wasn't pain that made Ginny draw in her breath so sharply, and pull her ankles against the invisible bonds around them. And the worst part of all was that they'd gone in so easily because she was already wet. Embarassingly wet. She hated him. But not half as much as she hated herself. She heard his low chuckle.  
  
"Ready for me, aren't you? Oh, you can pretend you're not all you like..."  
  
Hot waves of shame scalded her. No, those tides of feeling weren't shame-- they were--  
  
Malfoy crooked his fingers and turned them and raked them gently against the fleshy front part of her, inside, and she sobbed.  
  
"I think I've found something," he whispered. "What, oh what, could this be?" And then he repeated the movement, more slowly, more deliberately this time. Ginny's hips jerked up, reflexively. He held them down with one arm across her pelvis, stroking her again. But this time he turned his arm and slipped his other hand between her thighs and massaged her clit with unerring precision at the same moment.  
  
"Oh, oh, oh, oh no," moaned Ginny. Dimly, she tasted blood where she'd bitten her lip to keep from crying out. Slowly, almost lazily, Malfoy looked up at her, his fingers continuing to make small, tantalizing movements.  
  
"Gods, but you're tight," he said. "I can barely get two fingers inside you... should I try for a third? What do you think, will it fit?" He smiled at her, and his face had the sinister beauty of an angel fallen most decidedly to earth. "Why don't we find out?" And Malfoy slid a third finger into her.  
  
Ginny shrieked.  
  
"Shh," he said, working his fingers in and out. There was a callus on one of them and he turned his hand so that it rubbed against that spot within her, rasping just slightly at the delicate tissues. Then he stopped, and was still.  
She was moaning now, her face a mixture of guilt and lust and need. She had lost the battle. She knew it. Her body screamed for release, and if Malfoy didn't give it to her she was going to die, in that molten instant she was sure of it. "Please," Ginny whispered.  
  
"Mmm... what was that?"  
  
"Please. Don't stop."  
  
"Does someone want to come?" he asked idly.  
  
"Yes." She was beyond humiliation now, but she didn't care.  
  
"Really. And to think that you're asking me… begging me, really…" His words trailed off, and he did not at once elaborate. And his hands remained motionless.  
  
This was the moment, Ginny suddenly knew. The crisis point in the strange game that he'd been playing with her. But he'd won, he had to know he'd won. So what more did he want? She looked at him desperately, unable to speak.  
He got up from the side of the bed where he'd been sitting, moving back, and Ginny could not repress a desperate sob. "Shhh," he said, for the third time. Slowly, he removed his clothing, his eyes never once leaving hers. The light of the full moon spilled in from the little window across his chest, and he was like a statue of living marble standing before her. It was not possible for her to avoid thinking, He's perfect. Not a flaw to be seen. No matter how evil I think he is, no matter what I know, no matter what I tell myself... I still have to admit that Draco Malfoy is truly beautiful.  
  
He padded back over to her on bare feet, and she saw that he was already throbbing, half-erect. The bed was so high that his hips were level with her face when he leaned towards her.  
  
"What-- what do you want me to do?" Ginny asked stupidly. There really was no need to ask; he was leaning further, adjusting himself with one hand, and prodding at the corner of her lips.  
  
"Open your mouth," he murmured.  
  
"I've never done this before. I don't know how. What if I... well... bite you, or something?"  
  
"You'd damn well better not. Just open it."  
  
Ginny parted her lips, feeling them tremble. He pushed his cock into her mouth a little, very slowly, allowing her time to adjust to it. The feeling wasn't what she had imagined. Although she had certainly never done this before, she'd heard more than enough whispered stories to know what to expect. She'd pictured him shoving himself into her roughly, causing her to gag, to bite down whether she'd planned to or not (and as enticing as the thought was, it seemed like a remarkably bad idea whilst Malfoy had her bound to the bed.) But he was almost gentle, and she forced herself to relax as best she could.  
  
I should have known better, she thought. He was so gentle last night, too, when I thought he would surely be rough. That was what shocked me the most...  
  
"Good," he said. "Good. Now run your tongue up and down."  
  
She did, experimentally. The taste was salty and musky and not at all unpleasant. Even this tasted a little like Draco always smelled, like cut grass, and sun on a field. She tongued the sides, then under the curious bell-shaped head, and felt him harden in her mouth. "Is that right?" she asked, around him.  
  
"Yes," Malfoy said, tightly. He seemed to lose the power of speech for a few seconds. "Now suck me, Ginny."  
  
She wrapped her lips around the hard fleshy shaft and worked them up and down, and was rewarded by his gasp. Sneaking a peek up at him, she saw that his eyes were closed, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. The sight filled her with a strange mixture of almost-triumph and almost-fear. She was affecting him this way. The thought was secretly thrilling, and nearly enough to make her forget the frustrated pain of incompletion in her own body. But not quite. If she pleased him, maybe he would please her. She sucked harder, and he began to move in and out of her mouth, thrusting very shallowly, and then deeper and deeper until she could feel his cock touching the back of her throat, and then he pulled out, breathing heavily. Ginny wondered if she'd done something he didn't like. He didn't speak for several long moments.  
  
At last, Malfoy bent down to her. Without a word, he slid all three fingers back into her, and her hips bowed upward towards him as far as she could go. She tried to grasp onto the amazing sensation, the almost-completion, but he made no further move and the feeling died away.  
  
"Tell me you want this, what I do to you," he said. "Tell me that you want me."  
  
"I do." Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower body was throbbing, throbbing with a hunger and a need that were agony, now that there was nothing else to distract her.  
  
"Very good. But..." he shook his head. "Not quite enough."  
  
"I-- I don't understand. What else do you want?"  
  
"You haven't called me by my name."  
  
"Malfoy, I want this, I need this, from you, just you, no-one else has ever touched me like this, or made me feel this, please, I'll die if you don't--" Once the words began to spill out, there seemed no way to stop them, and Ginny became aware that she was babbling. "Please, Malfoy. Please," she repeated.  
  
"Don't call me that," he said, and his voice was nearly a snarl. "Call me by my name. Not my father’s name, not my family’s name. Call me Draco. You never have done. Never, not once."  
  
"I... can't."  
  
"You can, and you will."  
  
Ginny tried to hitch her hips forward, to bring her pleasure centers in contact with his touch again, but he held her fast. "Say it! Say it or I'll stop." And he began pulling his fingers out of her.  
  
"Draco!" she cried. "Draco. Draco. Please. Please, Draco--"  
And he twisted his fingers and jammed them up inside her, and every nerve ending seized and then convulsed in a screaming orgasm, and Ginny cried out and rocked her hips against him. "Draco, Draco, Draco..."  
  
Now it was as if the floodgates had fallen, and she couldn't stop saying the name that had been so forbidden. He brought her to orgasm after orgasm, and she shuddered and wept with the pleasure that seized every part of her, that curled and pounded through her, lasting and lasting even as the wave of the next climax would slam into her quivering body. And she whimpered and screamed his name, again and again and again. Finally, he sat up, and she tried to protest, her wrists straining against the invisible bonds as she instinctively tried to hold him to her.  
  
"Yes. Keep doing that, Ginny. Oh, I love to see that. I think I could never get tired of it," he said, hoarsely. "Struggling against the chains that bind you, Ginny... but not struggling too hard, are you? You can't get away from me. I can do anything I choose to do to you... and there's still so much I want to do, tonight..." Draco turned away from her further. She gave a little mewl of despair. But he was only reaching for his wand on the bedside table.  
  
"I'm not half through, Ginny. Don't think that." The wand touched her ankles, and she felt the bonds there melt away. "Shame to waste that tight little cunt of yours on my hands, that's all," he said, with deliberate crudity. "Every time you come, it feels as if you're going to break the bones in my fingers... but in a good way... I want to feel that around my cock. Need to. Spread your legs, Ginny, hurry--"  
  
But Draco wasn't waiting for her to obey; he'd climbed on top of her and was forcing her thighs apart with one knee, and then pushing himself inside her with a long, guttural groan. He felt impossibly large and hard, but ah, there was no limitation of flesh that would not ease this time, and he glided sleekly into her and all her interior muscles shrieked with pleasure. Then he lay still on top of her.  
  
She shifted beneath him a little, and felt that massive hardness seemingly all through her. Tentatively, she tried the movement again. Just a little rocking forward of the hips--  
  
"Don't!" The word was torn from him. "Don't move. Don't-- just stay still--"  
  
"Malf-- Draco?" she asked. "What is it?"  
  
Draco only shook his head in response, not speaking. His hands were balled into fists on the coverlet, and his knuckles had gone white. Ginny was puzzled for another instant. And then, in a flash, she understood.  
  
He was struggling not to come from that first thrust within her. Just entering her body had done this to him, had brought him within a hair's breadth of climax. She had done this. She examined his sweaty face, his closed eyes, the muscles tight in his forearms as he held himself above her.  
I do this to him, she thought incredulously. I really do.  
  
He had tried to dominate her, needed to dominate her. He had bound her to his bed and stripped her naked and tormented her cruelly in body and mind before allowing her ecstatic release. He had been desperately struggling to win... something. But Ginny now knew that however won, the victory was not his, but hers.  
  
"You can move now," Draco finally said, and as she did, she felt him beginning to move in her.  
  
There was none of the sharp pain she had felt the night before. There was only a cresting wave of silken friction and when he reached between their sweaty bodies and rubbed along her clit, she came yet again, and again. He winced each time, as if with pain.  
  
"Are you all right?" Ginny asked.  
  
"No," Draco said, and did not at once elaborate.  
  
"It's not all right," he ground out at last, from between clenched teeth. "No. Not all right. It's perfect. You're a perfect fit, Ginny. You were made for me. I've made you that way-- so hot, so wet, so tight, shaped to me, only to me-- ah--" She pushed her hips up at him and he began thrusting into her harder and faster. There was nothing controlled about his movements now, no finesse whatsoever, even as all elegance and sophistication had left his speech.  
  
"Close--" he groaned. "So close-- can't wait--"  
  
"Then don't," she said.  
  
There was one more exquisite thrust, and then another, and another, and then Draco gasped and held her to him so tightly that all the breath flooded out of her lungs. Even if Ginny had wanted to do the same, she couldn't, as her hands were still bound. So she felt him swell and break within her, and she watched his face intently as he came. It looked as if it belonged to an entirely different person.  
  
He collapsed on her, still shuddering. His breathing didn't slow for a long time. Ginny did want to put her arms around him then. Even though he was what he was, Draco Malfoy, it just seemed... appropriate. One put one's arms around a lover after lovemaking like this. Too late, she realized that she had thought of him as her lover, as she'd sworn she would never do, and that she could never unthink it now.  
  
"Draco," she whispered after several minutes had passed.  
He did not reply.  
  
"My arms."  
  
"Oh. Right." Draco reached for his wand and tapped her wrists. She rubbed them, feeling the soreness all along her arms. There was soreness elsewhere, too. She could feel that she was still accommodating herself to him.  
He rolled over to lie on his back and stared up at the ceiling, not looking at her. The atmosphere had changed, and Ginny knew it. She wondered exactly how the tables had been turned on him, because they had been. Without even knowing how to play the game, she had won it. She wondered if he would become angry now. Let him, she thought rebelliously. Her part of the bargain had been more than fulfilled. And her body was still too sated with pleasure for her to care much about anything.  
  
But Draco only turned over onto his side and pulled her close to him, spoon-fashion, his breath ruffling her hair. Soon his breathing became regular and deep, and Ginny realized that he was asleep. Funny. He'd told her that he almost never slept nights, not anymore.


End file.
